Rather to Be Pitied

by Jan Newton

  ‘Oh, some rower. Cambridge blue apparently, pots of money.’ Julie sipped her wine and watched him. ‘So are you going to join me?’

  Adam smiled, but it wasn’t one of his best. ‘Yeah, go on then.’ He retrieved a glass and poured, but he was frowning.

  ‘What’s the matter, are you jealous?’ Julie laughed, but only until she realised she might possibly be right. ‘You are jealous.’

  ‘No I’m not. It’s just… I thought she might have told me.’

  ‘Why should she? You told her to sod off, according to you, why would she keep you up to date with her love life? Although maybe that’s just what she was doing. What if she was phoning you to tell you about her upmarket engagement?’ Julie smiled, but her stomach was doing that old familiar thing it had always done when she suspected there was more to what Adam was saying than she knew. ‘Well I think it’s cause for celebration, anyway.’

  Adam left his wine untouched and turned his back, as he checked the pan. When he turned back to her, he was smiling. Proper smiling, she thought. He picked up his glass and raised it towards her. ‘Cheers, here’s to a Tiffany-free future.’

  ‘Thank God for that, I thought you were going to go and scratch his eyes out.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I’ve just been so worried about her and then she goes and does this. I knew there were other boyfriends, but she said she only wanted to make me jealous.’

  ‘Why were you worried?’ Julie put her glass on the table and stared at him.

  Adam looked away. ‘Because in the last phone message she left, she threatened to kill herself, even though when I’d phoned her to tell her to leave me alone, she must have already been going out with him. It wasn’t me she wanted at all.’

  ‘Well she’s got over it remarkably quickly. That’s emotional blackmail that is, and… oh my God.’

  ‘What? Are you all right? Tell me.’ Adam was round the table faster than she’d ever seen him move.

  ‘I’m fine, sorry. I shouldn’t have overreacted like that, it’s just work. I’ve just realised that something’s been staring me in the face.’

  Adam let out a long breath. ‘Sometimes, do you think we’re better matched than we think?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ Julie smiled. ‘Always. I’ve got to make a phone call.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Day Eight

  The day hadn’t started well. Kay Greenhalgh phoned her mobile at 6.30am to tell Julie one of the tests needed to be re-run and she had two urgent meetings and an inquest, all before 11am. When they finally got the coat and the relevant information from Kay, Lizzie was just as intractable as she had been the previous afternoon. The night in the cells hadn’t made any difference; she denied everything and answered nothing. Julie could tell Swift was losing patience, and the PACE clock was still ticking.

  ‘We have evidence that you were instrumental in the murder of Jason Quigley,’ he said. Lizzie shook her head and smiled. ‘Our evidence places you at the scene of Quigley’s murder. There is no other way that this evidence could be interpreted.’

  Eurig raised an eyebrow. ‘And are you going to tell us what this evidence is, Inspector?’

  ‘I think your client is already well aware of what it is.’

  From under the table, Julie retrieved a large evidence bag and slapped it on the table. Lizzie jumped and Eurig flicked his fringe back from his face to get a better look.

  ‘We believe this is your coat.’ Julie pushed the bag closer to Lizzie. ‘In the pockets there are traces of what I’m reliably informed is oasis.’ Julie looked up from her notes. ‘There is also a small roll of very heavy gauge wire, used in flower arranging.’

  Lizzie smiled again. ‘That could be anybody’s coat, Sergeant. And flower arranging isn’t a minority activity.’

  ‘There are also these business cards which were lodged in the lining of the inside pocket. James Pritchard told us you are a florist.’ Julie read from the card. ‘Busy Lizzie’s Flowers for all Occasions. Are you asking me to believe that a florist’s in Blackpool with a name like that is nothing to do with you, Lizzie? Especially as your name and e-mail address are handily printed on the other side.’

  There wasn’t even a pause. ‘I lost it. I went out for a walk and I got too hot. I took it off and left it in the field. I was going to pick it up on the way back, but it had gone.’

  ‘You lost it?’ Swift shook his head.

  ‘And these wire cutters,’ Julie flourished a second evidence bag. ‘These are nothing to do with you either?’

  ‘Anyone could have found that coat.’

  ‘That’s true, of course, but our forensic specialists have discovered that, on a microscopic level, the wire that was used to garrotte Jason Quigley was cut from this roll, with these wire cutters.’

  ‘But you can’t say it was me who cut the wire or used it to kill Quigley.’

  ‘Well, actually, Lizzie, we can. The prints which you very kindly provided yesterday are the only ones on the cutters and the spool of the wire itself. The fact that there was baler twine attached to each end of the wire garrotte, which would have enabled its use without cutting the user’s hands to shreds, would suggest that this weapon was prepared in advance.’

  ‘I might have tied the string onto the wire, but I didn’t kill him.’

  ‘So who did?’ Julie asked.

  ‘James Pritchard.’

  ‘You’re saying your father murdered Jason Quigley?’

  ‘Isn’t that what he’s told you?’ Lizzie smiled.

  ‘Is that what you told him to say, Mrs Slaithwaite?’ Swift managed to spit the name.

  ‘I’ve told you, Inspector, none of this is anything to do with me.’

  ‘I am well aware what you told us,’ Swift glared at her. ‘And I don’t believe a word of it.’

  ‘Inspector –,’ Eurig was helping Swift out, puncturing the growing tension, and Swift recognised the fact with a nod.

  ‘Perhaps you can tell us why, if your father killed Jason Quigley, there were no traces of florists’ oasis on Rosa’s body, not on her clothes or in her hair?’ Julie asked.

  Eurig looked up at her and then at his client.

  ‘Why would there be?’ Lizzie managed to look wide-eyed.

  ‘Because if, as you claim, your father had killed Jason Quigley with wire that had been in your pocket, he would have been covered in the stuff, and then, when he moved Rosa’s body, surely there would have been traces of it on her too.’ Julie’s face was all innocence. ‘Apparently it gets absolutely everywhere.’

  Lizzie smiled. ‘You really are clutching at straws, aren’t you, Sergeant? You don’t have a shred of evidence against me and you know it. How could you have? It was nothing to do with me, none of it. My father killed Quigley.’

  ‘Why would he do that?’ Julie tapped her pen on her teeth.

  ‘To protect me and Sean.’

  Swift shook his head. ‘And Rosa? Are you telling me that your father killed Rosa too?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘You’d better ask him.’

  Julie’s phone buzzed quietly and Swift glared at her.

  ‘Sorry, I need to get this. Could we have a break for a few minutes?’ There were nods all round, and Julie hurried from the room. If this was what she thought it was, Lizzie Slaithwaite might have even more explaining to do.

  ‘Hello, Mr Slaithwaite?’

  ‘You were right about the photograph, Sergeant. I turned the whole house upside down looking for it. Then I had a small brainwave. It was pinned on her noticeboard in the back room at the shop.’

  ‘Fantastic, could you take a photo of it, and the back, if there’s anything written on it?’

  ‘There was a press cutting too, which might be of help. Should I send that too?’

  ‘That would be brilliant. Would you be able to send it now?’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant, I would.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you found the certificates I asked you for?’

  Slait
hwaite hesitated. ‘I did. You’ll want those too will you?’

  Julie heard the change in Slaithwaite’s voice. He knew.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Slaithwaite, you’ve been more than helpful.’

  ‘That, Sergeant, is what worries me.’

  Julie ran back to the office and waited, tapping her phone on her teeth as she did so. When the photograph arrived, complete with the four names written on the back, she printed both out, along with the third photo and the certificates, and returned to the interview room.

  ‘Sorry to keep you waiting.’ Julie smiled and sat down, placing the copies face down on the table. ‘Your husband told me yesterday that he was nipping back to Blackpool to pick up more clothes for you both and check his work mail.’

  ‘God forbid that anything as trivial as the wrongful arrest of his wife would stop him keeping up with his work mail,’ Lizzie said with a smirk.

  ‘I asked him if he would mind looking for this.’ Julie turned over the copy of the photograph with a flourish. Four fresh-faced lads with long hair and huge collars fastened with fat ties smiled out at them. Lizzie’s smirk evaporated. ‘There’s a date on the back too, twenty-third of June 1979. Given that you claim your date of birth is the fifteenth of March 1980, I’d say there’s more than an outside chance that these are the lads who met your mother when she was working on the rifle range at the fairground in Blackpool.’

  Swift suddenly sat a little straighter in his chair. ‘One of these boys could be your father?’

  ‘So?’ Lizzie folded her arms.

  ‘So it bothered me, how you found out which of them it was.’ Julie turned over the second piece of paper and looked at the names. ‘But you didn’t, did you?’ She put the paper on the table and looked up at Lizzie. ‘How did you decide which one to go for? Ah yes, it says here, on the back of the photograph.’ She pointed to the list:

  Colin Hughes – moved from Hereford to Arizona, 2001

  Gary Brough – died August 1981, car accident near Aberystwyth

  James Pritchard – Llandrindod Wells, Powys, Engineer at Dilwyn & Morris Ltd, Newtown

  Anthony Jackson – Prison Officer, HMP Swansea

  Lizzie looked down at the list and looked away.

  ‘But that list on its own doesn’t mean very much, does it?’ Eurig was clutching at straws and was aware that Julie knew it.

  ‘This might help, though?’ Julie turned over the final copy. It was an article from the BlackpoolGazette. ‘This is dated the same week. It says these same boys were enjoying a weekend in Blackpool after attending a debating competition at a local school.’

  Julie shook her head. ‘Is this how you did it, Lizzie? Is this how you decided which of these boys was your father? The only one who was still in a position to be blackmailed into helping you?’

  ‘That’s a very strong accusation, Sergeant.’ Eurig pushed his fringe away from his eyes and stared at her.

  ‘Is it? Is it not emotional blackmail to tell a man that he’s your father, without any real proof, just so that you can use him for your own schemes?’ Julie frowned. ‘That’s quite a number to do on someone.’

  ‘He could be.’ Lizzie shrugged again. ‘One of them was. Mum couldn’t remember. She was drunk, apparently, which was no great surprise.’

  ‘How did you persuade James Pritchard that he was your father?’ Swift asked. Julie noticed he had clenched his fists, which were resting in his lap.

  ‘I didn’t have to persuade him, he is my father. My mother contacted him when she found out she was pregnant.’

  ‘Did he not need evidence?’ Julie asked. ‘I’m not sure I’d take the word of a total stranger about something as important as this.’

  ‘That’s his problem, surely?’ Lizzie turned to Eurig. ‘If he chose to believe that he was my father, what crime have I committed?’

  ‘That,’ said Swift, ‘is irrelevant to this case.’

  ‘It’s not though, is it?’ Julie said. ‘The only reason James Pritchard left his wife and emptied his bank account was to help you buy that cottage. The cottage is in your name, Lizzie, isn’t it?’

  Lizzie shrugged.

  ‘And the only reason he moved Rosa’s body from outside your cottage was because you persuaded him that Quigley was after you and the boy. If he’d already killed Quigley, why would he have needed to move Rosa away from your hiding place?’ Swift asked.

  ‘Well he couldn’t just leave her there, could he?’

  ‘I think you killed Quigley. You saw what he had done to your friend over the years and you were terrified he would come for you next.’

  ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Inspector. Quigley must have killed Rosa and my father killed Quigley to protect me.’

  ‘So how was it that Quigley and Rosa were both there, on the hillside outside your cottage,’ Julie asked. ‘That’s one hell of a coincidence.’

  ‘Rosa obviously decided she wanted to come and see Sean. Quigley must have followed her.’

  ‘Or you arranged the whole thing. We’re running a check on a pay as you go phone we found in the lining of your coat, along with your business cards.’ Julie smiled. ‘And if we find that you contacted both Rosa and Quigley recently, that would put a different light on your story, wouldn’t it, Lizzie?’

  ‘And that coat, your coat, was also covered in Quigley’s blood. How do you account for that?’ Swift asked.

  ‘My father must have found it and worn it when he killed Quigley.’

  Julie laughed. ‘Lizzie, you are a size ten after a bad week on the diet front and James Pritchard is six foot two and well built. He wouldn’t even get his arms into that coat.’

  Julie turned over the remaining copies. One was a marriage certificate, the other a birth certificate.

  ‘Your husband very kindly supplied us with these.’ She turned them round so that Lizzie could read them. ‘You weren’t born in 1980, were you, Lizzie?’ Julie watched with satisfaction as the colour drained from Lizzie’s face. ‘You were born in 1988.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So James Pritchard was married and living in Llandrindod by 1988. And it will be easy enough for us to establish who your real father is.’

  Lizzie shrugged. ‘Well, you’ll have to prove it, won’t you?’ She laughed. ‘Good luck with that one.’

  ‘I’m suspending this interview.’ The three of them looked at Swift. ‘Take her back to the cells.’ Swift signed off and stormed from the room.

  ‘What was all that about, Sir? Are you all right?’

  ‘I know. It was unprofessional.’ Swift was leaning on the wall by the door to the office when she caught up with him. ‘I just couldn’t bear to listen to her. Let her sweat for half an hour.’

  ‘Do you want me to continue the interview? Morgan could sit in?’

  Swift shook his head. ‘She’s right. We can’t prove it yet, especially as long as James Pritchard insists he killed Quigley.’

  ‘But Pritchard can’t even tell us how Quigley died.’ Julie frowned. ‘So what would happen if we told him there’s absolutely no chance he’s Lizzie’s father?’

  Swift punched her on the arm. ‘Julie Kite, you’re very bad. Thank goodness.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Well, we have to do something, and soon. The clock is ticking down merrily.’

  ‘Have I got time for coffee?’

  ‘Definitely. Fetch me one, would you?’

  Swift pushed the door open and Rhys dashed through, phone in hand.

  ‘It’s the woman at the alpaca farm, Mrs Wilkinson. She wants to speak to you, Julie. It’s urgent.’

  ‘Mrs Wilkinson? It’s Julie Kite.’

  ‘Oh, thank God you’re there. I was going to phone for an ambulance but he said he wouldn’t go with them. He’ll only speak to you.’

  ‘Who? Slow down and start again. What’s happened?’

  ‘It’s Mick. He’s cut himself.’

  ‘I don’t see –.’

  ‘He’s slashed his wrist, pretty badly too from what I can see from
the window. He won’t come out of his flat, he’s locked himself in. He wants to speak to you. He says he should have done something to stop it. I’ve no idea what that means.’

  ‘OK. I’ll organise an ambulance. See if you can persuade him to let you in. Do you know any first aid?’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t know how bad it is.’

  ‘Just do your best. I’m on my way.’

  This time, Julie was glad of Swift’s driving. Why was everywhere so far away? Wherever you needed to be took forever, even with a blue light on the roof and an advanced driver.

  ‘What do you think he saw?’ Swift asked.

  ‘I’m guessing he knows what happened to Quigley, but we might never know now.’

  ‘Sometimes I hate this job.’ Swift swung left into West Street once again and roared past parked cars, forcing oncoming traffic to dive into the side. ‘Sorry,’ he mouthed to each one as he sped past them.

  Over the bridge in Cwm Deuddwr, right along the wooded lane, it just went on and on. How good were Mrs Wilkinson’s first aid skills? Had she even been able to get into the flat? Julie crossed everything and found herself praying. She never prayed. This case had hurt so many people, people who had nothing to do with the main players.